Frostfell_ The Wizards - Mark Sehestedt [101]
"Why did you tell them that?"
"So that they will know you are their equal."
"I-"
A great howl from beyond the camp cut her off, and everyone seated round the fire stiffened. The wolves stopped their pacing and stood still, only their ears moving.
"The sentries-" said one of the elves beside the omah nin.
The wind, which had blown out of the north all day, suddenly rose to a tumultuous gale and blew up a great cloud of snow. The fire went out, and as darkness gripped them, Jalan grabbed his mother. She could feel him trembling beside her.
Amira felt the belkagen rise beside her and heard his incantation. A moment later the green fire from his staff lit the camp, reflecting off the snow in the air so that it seemed as if they were suspended in a spring-green cloud. The wind shrieked even harder, and the belkagen shouted, "No one move! Be still!"
A cackle came from somewhere in the blizzard. It was one of the most inhuman sounds Amira had ever heard, like the sound of breaking icicles given life and a gleeful malice.
"Behind me!" shouted the belkagen as he stepped away from the main body of the camp, his staff held high, the flames on its tip blazing like an emerald star. "Everyone back! Stay behind my light!"
The wind blew even stronger, sending the belkagen's great cloak billowing behind him. Amira could hear him shouting but could not understand the words. The gale pummeled them, blowing no longer from the north but switching direction again and again. Amira thought it was beginning to slacken a bit, but then she realized that it was only gathering in the darkness just beyond the reach of the belkagen's light.
Amira watched in horror as the wind gathered into a single cyclone, dozens of feet high. It stayed in one spot, gathering snow, ice, leaves, and other bits of debris as it swayed back and forth.
Gripping her staff, Amira began to form the words of a spell.
"Be still!" said the belkagen. "I beg you, Lady."
Out of the snow, a small form staggered, leaning heavily upon a gnarled staff dangling with thorns and bits of hair and bone. She stepped into the green light, and Amira saw that it was indeed a she-a hideous old crone, her skin blue as a drowned corpse, the flesh round her rheumy eyes black with decay. She seemed about Amira's height, but bent over as she was, Jalan could have looked down on her. Gripped in one hand she was dragging a pale, silver-haired body-one of the Vil Adanrath, either dead or unconscious; Amira could not be sure.
The old crone came forward until she was only a few paces from the belkagen, then she spat. "Ach! Cursed wolf-elf. Blech! Who could eat such a thing?" She dropped the unconscious sentry into the snow, sniffed the air, and fixed her eyes on everyone gathered around the dead fire. "But I do smell a human. Tasty manflesh."
The belkagen lowered his staff, and it seemed to glow even brighter as he spoke. "There is no meal for you here, Tselelka. Leave our sentry there and be off."
The old woman cackled and thrust her staff toward them, and a great deluge of hail and ice fell with a loud roar. Only a few shards hit before the belkagen raised his own staff, spoke a harsh incantation, and a half-globe shield, faintly sparkling, covered them all.
The old woman stamped her foot, and the ice storm died away. "Kwarun. It is you, eh? I feared as much. Damn and damn. I thought you were meddling in the south these days."
The belkagen lowered his staff, and the magic shield flickered away. "How was your hunting this season, Tselelka?"
"Pfah. No more than a few gems and an amulet. Hardly worth my time, though the amulet will give me something to puzzle over this winter. What might you be up to, old meddler?"
"Our business is none of your concern."
"If you're here, your business is Winterkeep. Tselelka is old, but she's no fool. And only fools find themselves at Winterkeep after the first snow falls."
"You're here."
"I am leaving."
The belkagen fixed her with a hard glare. "Then don't let us keep you. But leave our hunter behind. If you've hurt him,